


Radiance, Dancing

by imaginary_golux



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dancing, F/M, Love at First Sight, Prince Finn, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 04:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17842148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: For the February Ficlet Challenge prompt "Dancing."Prince Finn is getting awfully tired of the princess-meeting parties his Regent keeps arranging. Tonight's, though, goes a little differently.Beta by my darling Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.





	Radiance, Dancing

The worst thing - well, one of the _many_ worst things - about this year-long parade of balls and parties that Lord Regent Snoke is throwing to find Finn a wife, is that Finn is actually starting to hate dancing. He used to _love_ dancing, the intricate steps, the beautiful patterns, the warm weight of a partner in his arms trusting him to lead - but now, although he’s been dancing more this year than ever before, he has to be constantly on guard: guarding his tongue, so he doesn’t insult any of the foreign noblewomen or princesses he’s partnered with; keeping a wary eye out so his partner doesn’t manage to trick him into a quiet corner or even a private room and then claim he dishonored her and so win his hand; even guarding against _assassination_ , after the seemingly pleasant young princess from the Copper Isles took his lack of proposal as an insult, yanked an axe off the wall, and went for his head.

Dancing used to be the way Finn relaxed after a long week of learning to rule. Now it’s the source of easily half his nightmares.

Of course, the _other_ half of his nightmares involve Lord Regent Snoke managing to oust enough of Finn’s mother’s old guard to successfully usurp the throne the way he so clearly wants to do, so…

It hasn’t been the most pleasant year Finn’s ever spent, let’s put it like that. And he’s getting very, very tired of his nobles murmuring to each other, when they think he can’t hear, “If only Lord Skywalker were here.” Lord Skywalker was Finn’s mother’s chief advisor and dearest friend, and if he’d been here when the plague came through, _he_ would have been named Lord Regent in a heartbeat; but he left court when Finn was fifteen, for reasons Finn has never been clear on, and no one knew how to contact him in the chaos after - well. After.

And now here Finn is, six weeks from his birthday, four weeks from his wedding - to whom, he hasn’t the faintest idea, since Lord Regent Snoke is _still_ holding balls every second night and hasn’t breathed a word to _anyone_ , so far as Finn can tell, as to which princess or noblewoman or wealthy merchant’s daughter has won the contest.

The music signals a change of dances, and Finn bows to his current partner and turns to find the next - they’re usually lined up waiting, and tonight is no different. The young woman who steps to meet him is fair and lovely, with dark brown hair and eyes and a dress that’s more elegant than extravagant, and as she’s not wearing a coronet, Finn murmurs, “My lady,” and draws her into the dance.

She watches him thoughtfully for the first few minutes, not speaking, which is...unusual enough that Finn actually starts paying a little more attention. He’s never seen her before, but that’s normal these days; he can’t keep track of the number of foreign visitors streaming in and out of the palace. He doesn’t like to think of what the constant string of entertainments is doing to the treasury. If he _does_ manage to take the throne on his eighteenth birthday, it’s going to be fascinating - as a carriage wreck is fascinating - trying to figure out everything Lord Regent Snoke has done to cripple the country.

And then his partner shifts with the dance, and Finn’s hand slides to the small of her back, and his eyes go wide as he finds the unmistakable line of a knife’s sheath beneath the smooth satin of her dress. Her lips quirk into a tiny smile.

“Not for _you_ , Highness,” she says softly, under the music. “We’re not here to harm _you_.”

“That’s only slightly reassuring,” Finn says. “We?”

Her smile gets bigger, and the hint of teeth reminds him oddly of a cat, predatory and smug. “My father and I. We’re on your side, Highness.”

Finn has no idea why he wants to trust her. He’s never seen her before, and she’s _clearly_ dangerous, between the knife and that smile and the way she moves, graceful and elegant but with something about her control that makes him think of sword drills and the careful concentration of master archers. But his instincts are rarely wrong - his mother used to trust Finn’s impression of people more than even her _own_ instincts, sometimes - and Finn doesn’t feel like this woman is a danger to _him_.

Also he sort of wants to kiss that little smile, which is startling. He’d been under the impression he was mostly immune to feminine beauty, after the past year of having every wealthy or noble woman in eight countries trying to flirt with him.

“Who are you?” he asks.

She chuckles, soft and warm, and says, “My father named me Radiance, but I go by Rey.”

“Lady Rey,” Finn says, tasting the word on his tongue. Radiance is a good name for her, he thinks, and then wants to slap himself upside the head. Less than three minutes’ conversation and he’s already thinking like this? What is _wrong_ with him? “Of?”

She glances past his shoulder, up to the dais where Lord Regent Snoke is watching the dancing with his usual cold gaze, and her smile grows suddenly to a broad, bright, delighted grin. “Of House Skywalker, Highness,” she says, and then there’s a scream behind him, and Finn whirls, hand going to the sword he isn’t wearing, other hand coming up to try to tuck Lady Rey behind him for safety - and then he drops that hand, feeling rather foolish, as she steps up beside him with a long, well-made dagger held lightly in one hand.

Up on the dais, Lord Regent Snoke has reared back in his chair - not _quite_ a throne - with his hands clawed into the chair’s arms and his eyes wide. Finn has never seen Lord Regent Snoke look _scared_ before. And standing before the chair, arms crossed over his chest, is someone Finn had thought he’d never see again:

Lord Skywalker, in the flesh.

“You’re _dead_!” Lord Regent Snoke cries shrilly.

“Despite your best efforts, no, I’m not,” Lord Skywalker says calmly, voice ringing over the suddenly _very_ quiet ballroom, and Finn’s eyes go wide. _Despite your best efforts_ and all the nobles murmuring _If only Lord Skywalker were here_ and his mother’s will being _very_ explicit that Lord Skywalker was to be his Regent if anything happened, only Lord Skywalker was gone and Lord Snoke had a stranglehold on the most powerful coalition of nobles -

“And as I am now here again,” Lord Skywalker continues, still calm - Finn remembers that he was _always_ calm, like a windless lake, even in the worst chaos - “and as I understand Her late Majesty’s will named me her Regent in the event of her demise, I think I will be wanting that chair. Baron Snoke.”

Lord Regent Snoke has demanded the full title from _everyone_ since the day he took it. Hearing someone state his true rank so flatly - a gasp runs through the court, and Finn finds that he is smiling, a grin that stretches his cheeks. He steps forward and projects, the way his mother taught him: “As was our Mother’s will, we are pleased to recognise you as our Regent, Lord Skywalker.”

Baron Snoke snarls, glaring around the room to try to catch his supporters’ eyes, but even General Hux, who has been Baron Snoke’s firmest ally, does not quite dare back him against Lord Skywalker returned, against the late Queen’s will and her son’s words. And the Royal Guard, who despite Baron Snoke’s best efforts are _still_ mostly the men and women who served and loved the Queen, and are still loyal to Finn and to the throne, are clearly on Lord Skywalker’s side.

And Lord Skywalker is known to be the finest swordsman in at least five countries, while Baron Snoke is...not. If this comes down to blades, everyone here knows how _that_ will end.

“Da’s got this,” Lady Rey says quietly from beside Finn. “We’re sorry it took so long, but he had to come find me, and I was - a long way away.”

“I didn’t even know he had a daughter,” Finn admits, looking down at her.

“It’s a long story,” Lady Rey says, with a crooked little smile. “I’ll tell it to you later, if you like.”

“I would like that a lot,” Finn admits. “And also to dance with you again, sometime.”

Lady Rey grins. “I would enjoy that, Highness,” she says.

Finn acts on pure impulse, as he hasn’t in - years, perhaps. “Just Finn,” he says softly. “To you, just Finn.”

Lady Rey’s cheeks go pink, and her smile goes soft, not predatory in the slightest. “I would enjoy that, Finn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Stealth crossover is Princess Josiane of the Copper Isles, from the Tortall 'verse, and her regicidal tendencies.


End file.
